


At The Station

by lesbianettes



Series: 911 Lone Star Bad Things Happen Bingo [4]
Category: 9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)
Genre: 911 Lone Star Bad Things Happen Bingo, At the Station, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Dysphoria, I know it's been done before but I cope how I want, Implied Menstruation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:54:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24241654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbianettes/pseuds/lesbianettes
Summary: Paul just needs some tylenol.
Series: 911 Lone Star Bad Things Happen Bingo [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1719811
Comments: 2
Kudos: 36





	At The Station

It’s alright, Paul tells himself. It happens. It happens and he has everything he needs right here with him, because he figured it would happen at some point or another. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck for every possible reason. He reminds himself that his new crew love and support him, no matter what. They’re not going to judge him for it any more than they would judge Marjan, or Michelle. It’s a bodily function he has no control over. 

He still hates it.

* * *

He finishes rinsing his boxers in the sink and hangs them over the rail in his locker to dry, thankful that nothing reached his uniform pants. It’s been long enough for it to be awkward as he fumbles with a pad. His lower abdomen screams at him in protest. Every movement seems to draw the ache to the surface. It’s fine, he tells himself yet again. He’s survived this before. He’ll take a painkiller and eat some of Judd’s fudge brownie ice cream (after shift, he’ll replace it), and he’ll work through it just fine. There’s nothing to worry about.

Unfortunately, Paul can’t track down his painkillers, which means asking Michelle. She’ll want to know what’s wrong. She’ll give him this look, half pity and half annoyance. He isn’t that close with her, not like he is with his crew, but he thinks she knows about him. The rule of threes, he thinks bitterly. There are no secrets kept in the city, certainly not secrets like these.

As he slowly makes his way to the main area, he’s interrupted by Judd, who was probably on his way to the gym to do another round of weights. It’s somewhat an obsession of his recently; Paul thinks it’s his way of regaining control of his body when he’s so ravaged by PTSD. Just like how Paul spent time putting tattoos on his own skin to change something. If you can’t build a new floor to the home, you can still paint its walls a color more pleasing.

“Hey man, you okay?” Judd asks, curling a hand around his upper arm. He isn’t grabbing him, even if it feels kind of like that. He’s rough on accident sometimes, but he’s a teddy bear. “You’re lookin’ a little…” he trails off and makes a confusing gesture with his hand in front of his face. 

“I’m fine. Just need to get some advil from Michelle.”

“Oh. Okay.” 

Although Judd doesn’t seem too convinced of it, he lets go of his arm and continues on his way, leaving Paul to continue his quest in relative peace. The pain has brought along its friend, nausea, and he’d like to get both under control sooner rather than later. 

He doesn’t need to go home. Everyone works through this, hell, so has he for years. It just feels so many times as debilitating when he hasn’t gone through this in years. The last time he felt this gross was when he still had to deal with changing into a bra before work so he didn’t suffocate himself. And thinking about that is worse. He’s going to bang his head against the wall at this rate, so he forces himself to take a deep breath and continues down to the truck bay for help.

Michelle and her crew are down there of course, restocking the truck. This is embarrassing and stupid. But Paul learned a long time ago not to just suck it up when it comes to anything that could affect the job, and feeling this much pain and nausea qualifies for that. He swallows his pride and leans up against the door of the ambulance.

“Hey, Mich, you got some tylenol to spare?”

She grabs her black bag to dig through. “Yeah, probably. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just uh…”

Paul can’t bring himself to say it, and Michelle doesn’t make him. She just hums in understanding as she searches. “Let me know if you need anything else, okay? Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

It’s not about being embarrassed, he thinks. It’s about the discomfort itching under his skin at the way his body has decided to remind him he can leave Chicago, but he can’t leave himself. He just nods once she gives him the painkillers and takes them with a long drink of water. 

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr @cupidmarwani


End file.
